


The Memorial

by literarypeerelief



Series: Old Houses, New People [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bladder Control, Desperation, M/M, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 04:31:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17297813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literarypeerelief/pseuds/literarypeerelief
Summary: New memorial for non-white history in town has been built as a fountain. At the opening day, the mayor, his secretary, the poet, and the lord were ready to give their speech, but readier for urinals!





	1. Chapter 1

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Hatton, sir.” James shook hand with a man in suit in his forties.”Thank you for materialising this memorial project, and for the initiation of the crowdfunding too.” James took another cup of tea inside the town hall. 

“It is our duty, James, to establish the memorial for your great grandfather, Richard Williamson, who fought in Napoleonic wars, and gained acceptance as a community leader of our small town, despite nineteenth-century racism.Your great grandfather helped design this ancient town hall too, and people should know about it.” The mayor, the man in suit, explained, sipped another cup of tea. The mayor, Anthony Hatton, thought he felt a mild need to urinate, but he ignored that.He still needed to revise and edit his speech. He was going to give his speech about the memorial for Richard Williamson, in front of the town hall, Then, James was going to read a poem for his great grandfather. Then, Lord Robert Rochester would give his short speech about non-white community and that would be the end of the ceremony. The memorials was just there in front of his office, and he could just walk inside and let it go. He read his speech again, and looked at the window. The memorials looked beautiful in the sun. The water splashed around. The memorials was designed as a bust a beautiful fountain because of the Napoleonic wars Richard Williamson had joined. They also established a small museum concerning non-white history in the towns as well. 

Actually the plan for the opening ceremony is going to be around ten thirty, but Lord Robert had urgent matters to deal with at his country house so they decided to wait and made some tea. 

They both drank the whole pot of tea, and then a man approached the mayor. “Mr. Hatton, sir, …”

“Hello, Stephen, how are things? We’re ready?”

“Yes, sir, Lord Robert has arrived.”

“OK, Are you ready, James?”

“Yes, sir.”

Anthony walked out of his office, with James and Stephen. He walked a few steps and his bladder sent a small signal. He looked at the men’s room at the far end of the town hall, and decided not to use it. The cleaners were still cleaning it because they were going to open the museum about non-whites’ history for the first day, after the opening ceremony. He didn’t want to spoil the cleaners’ great work, so he decided to hold it in. He looked at the glorious gate of the town hall and saw a beautiful memorial, glistening with water. He shouldn’t have looked at it. And the podium, well, that was a bit too near to the fountain. He decided to hold it anyway. He held it in long meetings with other MPs before. 

Lord Robert Rochester smiled at him and they shook hands.

“You’re strapping as usual, Anthony.”

“Thank you for the compliments, Lord Robert,” 

He walked to the fountain. Journalists took photos of him again and again. He was halfway to the fountain, when his bladder sent him spasm. He felt the need very strongly now, just suddenly. Oh God, No not this time. He smiled and stood there, posing in front of the photographers, with his hands in his pockets. The hands were pinching the tip of his penis. He loved to have his photos taken, because fifteen years ago he was among the hottest models in the country, but now he didn’t want himself to look like a desperate man on his way to the toilet. The sound of water splashing and flowing in the fountain made it harder to control his pose and his facial expression. In his cheeky mind, the spouting fountain had turned into a urinal and he just couldn’t wait to pee there. He jiggled a little and walked to the podium. The podium looked like a sort of urinal to him. Oh he should stop thinking about that. He gritted his teeth. His bladder kept attacking him now. The sounds of the fountain made him think of nothing but his boiling pee and a urinal. Behind the podium, he grabbed his crotch and danced a little bit. He smiled and hypnotised himself not to look desperate, or, in the worst case scenario, wet himself. 

\----------------

James O’Neil was quite desperate while he was walking on the carpet to the podium. He shouldn’t have drunk so much, but he thought he needed to polish his poem a little bit and tea always helped. He wanted to be known as a famous poet of this town, and he wanted journalists to listen to the best of his works. So he rewrote some of the verses and ignored his need to pee. When he was called, he was still finishing some of his last lines and focused too much on his work that he forgot to ask to use the toilet first. The tea was great, but too much of it was making him mad. He walked out of the grand door of the town hall and just realised the scream of his full bladder. He smiled and crossed his legs. With his eyes on the fountain, his dark hose was ready to spew. James looked at the bust of his great grandfather and hoped he would not make a mess in front of the bust of his great grandfather.His great grandfather was nicknamed, “Lord of the Sea”, and he hoped he could control “the sea” within him as much as his great grandfather controlled the sea without. He squirmed a bit while Anthony was posing for the photographers. He had to stop to pose too, but he couldn’t stop squirming. He hoped this opening ceremony ended as soon as possible. 

He squirmed as he listened to the mayor speaking of this beautiful town. The calmness in his voice was contrasted with the sound of rushing, flowing, splashing water in the fountain. It shouldn’t be hear. He grabbed his cock sneakily in his pocket. The splashing water outside helped pushed his golden flood out of the bladder. His bladder was trying to hold back, but his brain said nothing but toilets and urinals. He badly needed to go. He looked at the mayor and wondered why the mayor looked so calm. He drank as much tea as he did, and yet it seemed the mayor didn’t need to urinate at all. He squirmed once more while waiting for the speech to end. Maybe that was because he drank some juice before he left home and both juice and tea were making their way out of his body now. That was why the mayor didn’t need to pee, while he was desperate. 

He thought the speech was short, but it was quite long. He sighed softly and hoped the mayor would bring his speech to an end.


	2. Chapter 2

Stephen Davies was squirming while waiting on his boss, the mayor. He felt super lucky when he knew he was going to work with the sexy, handsome Anthony Hatton. He was Hatton’s fans since he was a model. It seemed that Anthony liked him as well, but they hadn’t had time to talk much about that. Anthony decided to take him to dinner many times, but in the end he was too busy and apologised for not bringing Stephen to a dinner. Stephen didn’t care much about dinner; he just loved being with Anthony. 

Though Anthony didn’t like his secretary to work like his servants, Stephen loved to serve him tea every morning. Today he served Anthony some tea and had some coffee for himself. He realised he had too much coffee when he received a phone call from Greg Jackson, the plumber, who helped setting the fountain. He felt the need to pee rose up when he talked to Greg, and yet he ignored it and hoped everything was ready before the journalists arrived. He was the first one to see the fountain splashing its water. The sound and the image of water reminded him on his full bladder, but he ignored it and postponed his trip to the men’s room. James arrived and he made some more tea for James. The boiling water made him dance a bit but that was fine. He could hold a lot when he was at the meeting with Anthony. At twenty past ten, he decided to go to the toilet when a phone rang. The call was from Lord Robert. He was crossing his legs and trying not to betray his desperation through his voice, when he picked up the call of Lord Robert, but not the call of nature. He sighed softly when he finished the call and walked slowly to tell Anthony and James that the Lord was going to be late. He was going to the toilet afterwards, but the journalists kept calling and emailing him about the new cultural project at the town hall next week. So he was squirming at his desk, answering phone calls and emails. Then, when he was going to head to the men’s room, with both hands on his crotch, the Lord arrived and it was time for the ceremony. 

He squirmed listening to Anthony, and then James. James’ voice kept quivering. Oh, poor James, he must need to pee too.Stephen thought he should let the guest use the toilet first. He decided to hold on. He used to hold longer, but this time the coffee was ruining his bloated bladder. His bladder made him moan softly quite frequently. He tried to look at the crowd and thought about something else, but the sound of the fountain disrupting him. The splashing water made him sigh softly. He looked at Anthony, who stood calmly at the poetry session. It was quite a long poem indeed. 

Lord Robert came up next. He didn’t seem to prepare a speech and started to ramble about non-white community. He didn’t speak correctly, but he was a great actor and orator. He had so much passion, though his voice quivered a bit. Stephen was bored with and annoyed at Lord Robert’s speaking of parochial nationalism at this place and time, and yet it was great fun to look at him. Not only was Lord Robert sexy, with large bulge in beige trousers, he was grabbing his crotch while talking about the town. That turned him on and, in a way, helped him keep his flood at bay. 

Yet, the sound of the fountain… As a memorial, it worked really well, because he wouldn’t forget anything that made him so desperate.

——-  
The speech was done. It was time for group photos. Lord Robert hoped there were just a few photographers, but he was wrong. It was quite rare for such historical non-white people to be recognised and memorialised. He didn’t agree at all, but he could not deny it was a part of the history. He didn’t like the bust and hated the fountain because he really needed to use the toilet. He actually wasn’t busy, with any urgent matter. He just slept late because of the party at his house the night before. It was a great party. He drank so much and he fell asleep on his bed. When he woke up, he knew it was going to be late so he contacted Stephen to wait. He dressed up and hoped everything would be done as soon as possible because he hadn’t peed yet. His morning pee kept irritating his bladder on his way to the town hall. He squirmed and grabbed his crotch on his way to the podium. He tried not to talk to any reporters or journalists. He could think of peeing only. He looked at the bust and thought it was mocking him. Lord Horace Rochester, his great grandfather, knew Richard Williamson, and hated him because Dora, his daughter, fell in love with Richard. Dora wasn’t allowed to marry Richard, because, according to Lord Horace, their marriage would embarrass their family. Now, he could embarrass himself any time with his bladder full of urine. He moaned out loud when the photos were done. He tried to keep it cool, but hot urine was slowly leaking out of his urethra. He squirmed and moaned. He grabbed his crotch and headed to the town hall. He saw Anthony, James, and Stephen walking hurriedly ahead of him. He knew James and Stephen were in dire need to urinate. 

After the photos, the journalists flocked at him while asking about his implication with fracking industries. He squirmed and confirmed that he didn’t support fracking. The sound of the water slowly crept upon him and made him even more desperate. He sighed while journalists kept asking questions about fracking. Some looked just like the fracking protesters he detested. He looked at the ancient building in front of him, designed the younger brother of his great grand father and that Richard Williamson. The town hall wasn’t far away. The toilet wasn’t far away, but he just couldn’t use it now. 

———-

Anthony, James, and Stephen reached the office because they walked quite fast. Before nobody said anything, James felt his urine leaking into his brief and said, “I’m sorry. Can I use the toilet, please? I really need to use it.”

“Please, go ahead,” Anthony sighed, “The toilet was just beyond my desk.”

James rushed to the toilet, with one hand on his crotch. He kept moaning until he opened the door, unzipped, fished his tool out and let go. The sound of torrents of urine tormented both Anthony and James, and yet they decided to let the guest enjoy the awaited piss first. James moaned out loud and sighed again and again, while his golden urine came out copiously from his bladder. Stephen showed his need obviously but didn’t say anything. Anthony sat at his desk, probably masochistically enjoying the sound of James’ urination, and grabbed his crotch. He asked Stephen, 

“Poor boy, Stevie, just use the toilet at the town hall.”

“No, sir, it was for the guests.”

“Stevie, just go,” Anthony sighed. He really needed to go too, and hoped he could go after James, and let Stephen use the men’s room around the museum at the far end of the hall. It seemed Stephen didn’t want to. He might have to hold it longer, listening to Stephen’s urination, which sounded good somehow. 

James had finished pissing, and walked out of the toilet happily. James said goodbye and left the office. Stephen just ran to the toilet and started to leak before he could unbuckle. He started to wet himself in front of the toilet. He didn’t care about wetting, but he needed to whip it out. He unzipped and fished his member out of his wet brief. Then, he just shot out a projectile of thick dark golden urine. He moaned in pleasure, and shivered as he was urinating. The pee was so good, and he was beaming. He pissed and pissed loudly.

Anthony squirmed when he heard that long piss. He stood up and decided to head to the men’s room in the hall, and yet he felt like he was leaking in his brief. That men’s room was too far away. He just couldn’t make it there for sure. Stephen was still pissing and moaning out loud. He decided to knock the toilet door. 

“Sorry, Stevie, I need to take a huge leak too! Are you going to finish soon?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It might take a bit of time, sir, I hadn’t peed since 7,sir.”

“OK….Oh God…Ahhhh….” He decided to sit down, but his bladder kept making spasms. He blushed and knocked the door again. “Stevie, could you please…ummm….could you,, ahhh…Could you please share the toilet with me? Just open the door and let me join you. Please. I am really sorry. I am too desperate to move anywhere else.”

The slowly opening door was the answer. When he saw Stephen releasing his golden, copious urine, he just had to unzip before he reached the toilet, and took hold of his spewing fat tool. He stood beside Stephen and started to let go off his boiling urine. The torrents was thick and he moaned out loud as his bladder gradually became lighter. Stephen was pissing very hard too. The urination was greatly pleasurable for both of them. 

“Stevie, you should have gone much before this!”

“I haven’t had time, sir.”

They smiled as they released their flood. They never thought they would cross their “swords” like this before. Stephen looked at the smiling, handsome Anthony and found his heart beating so fast.

“Stevie,”

“You look very tired, and I don’t think we have much to work on today.Can you book a table for us, please? Any restaurants you like.”

“Well…”

“Please do it… just for us.”

After they have finished pissing. Anthony kissed Stephen deeply. They hugged. Stephen looked like a tired bird who needed a rest. In their beautiful moment, they heard somebody knocking the door madly. 

They opened the door and found Lord Robert Rocherster releasing all the flood in his beige trousers. The flood kept flowing on and on. Lord Robert stood their transfixed. When Anthony and Stephen moved away, Lord Robert got in the toilet without much left in his bladder.


End file.
